A Soldier's Farewell
by TheSolidOne
Summary: A soldier recruited by Big Boss looks back on his life as he lay dying in Outer Heaven. Another one shot fic. No tears, please read and relate.


I do NOT own anything Metal Gear. It's a good thing too because it would suck. Much love to Pimp Master Kojima.

The menacing afternoon sun beat down on me and clawed at my eyes as I lay on the hot concrete. I know it is hot, however, I can't feel it. In fact, the only feeling I have is the cold that creeps across my entire body causing a strange state of euphoria. My blood is spreading into a pool of crimson that pours into the cracks of the concrete ground taking with it my strength and my life. I am dying. My hand is instinctively clutching my stomach where the tiny lead death bringer has lodged itself. I have never felt this cold in this harsh South African desert. My eyes are stating to tear as my mind looks back and tries to hold on to my memories. My precious memories.

I have only been on this base for a little over six months. This "Outer Heaven". I heard of this place through my underground connections, the ones that usually found me my jobs. It was a safe haven for people without a country. People without a place. I fit both profiles. I was wanted by my mother country. Ousted for taking jobs by her enemies. Fighting in war against her, but it was nothing personal. It was all business.

My life was in utter shambles. My fiancé, the love of my life, had died. Taken from me by a cruel cancer virus. I had enough money to retire and disappear with her, now, I wasted it on bottle after bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey. I had nothing else to live for. I tried so hard to die, but, someone wouldn't let me. Then came the day. I had ejected the clip from my berretta, inserting one bullet into the chamber by hand. Alcohol would need help to end me. I drank the whole day. I cried, I drank, and then I cried some more. When the bottle was done, I stumbled to the cabinet and opened a new one. With a bottle in one hand and gun in the other, I readied myself for the next life. There was a call. I wouldn't have answered it, but something forced me to. The voice was familiar. It told me where to meet him. I don't know why I agreed,but I put the clip back in my gun and headed to our normal meeting place. A bar.

My connections led me to a small airstrip in Nigeria where I met ten other mercenaries. We all nodded, not wanting to give too much away as we had no clue about each other. A jeep sped down the runway, only barely visible as the heat blurred the distance on the scorching tarmac. The jeep came to a screeching stop and three armed men quickly exited and fell into formation in front of us. One lone man remained in the jeep. He looked war torn. Old but still fit. His gray hair and beard were neatly trimmed giving him a distinguished look. He wore a patch over his right eye that obviously had a story to tell. He wore a gray suit but no medals. Civilian? Most likely not. The three soldiers in front of us asked for our dossiers and took them to the silent old man in the back of the jeep. It took a rough half hour for him to flip through all of them and when he was done he turned a sharp eye to all of us. He pointed at myself and four others and instructed us to board the C-130 that had turned on its engines about ten minutes before. The others protested, bitching that they came to the middle of nowhere just to turn around and go home. The hardened old man just said _Not my problem_ in a grizzly growl that would have shaken the devil himself. We boarded and made several stops to keep our destination anonymous. When we arrived we were all shown to our new quarters and given new BDUs and food. I opened my pack and sat in the one chair in my small quarters opening a new bottle of a familiar friend. This would be my new home.

Outer Heaven, we were told, was formed by a legend in his own time, Big Boss. I realized who the older man was in the jeep when I heard his name and I almost cowered at the thought. We were all welcome to stay for as long as we wanted, given free room and board. In exchange, we would keep our silence if we ever did decide to leave, or we would die. It was simple. We were still mercenaries, however we would work on a shared commission, taking twenty five percent of our fee (which was now considerably higher so there was no real loss) and give the rest of it back to the base for our safe haven. In our down time we would have our roles on base. Everyone had their place. There were cooks, guards, accountants, even landscapers for the little flora there was. It was a brilliant plan except one thing. The world was in a sort of peace. Surely there were wars still but not enough to sustain an entire nation of mercenaries. However, there were talks that there was a new weapon that would soon change all of that.

I kept to myself mostly. Only acknowledging people as I passed them on my guarding shifts or going to the base store to restock on my poison of choice. When I was not on duty, I was drunk. Ranting in my small room. Screaming at the wall of how much I missed her. How I am a shell of a man without her. It must have bothered some of my neighbors, however, because one day a guard came with direct orders from the commander to meet him in his quarters. My mind was running all over as we made our way across the enormous compound to the command center. I remember standing in front of the door, waiting a full minute before knocking. It was the first time in a long time I was nervous. When I did knock a gruff voice called _It's open_ from the other side. The room that I saw was not what I expected. There should have been many souvenirs from many countries. Walls lined with plaques and pictures and mantles with medals and other trophies of recognition. Instead, there was a large empty room. One bed, one chair, one sofa, one desk, one computer and a small kitchen. The room was really only about the size of two of my rooms put together. Nothing special. Nothing flashy. But then I remembered. He might be the base commander, but Big Boss was still just a soldier.

I heard him speaking on the phone saying something about an intruder that was caught and ordering the guards to keep him alive in the holding area. He turned to look at me with a glare that could destroy an entire nation. It was the stare of a man that had seen the fires of hell and pissed on them because he could. Then he did something unexpected. He smiled at me. No, not a full smile, a smirk. He told me to sit and I did. He reached into his fridge and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel's, calling it his _favorite_. He took two glasses off the top of the fridge and handed me one. He poured us both generous amounts and sat down right in front of me.

"Tell me about yourself, son," the legend proceeded. I looked at him in awe, realizing that I was in the presence of the most influential soldier of our time. Not just in his presence, in his personal room. "Go ahead." It wasn't the resume that my dossier held that he was interested in. He wanted to know everything about me, so I told him. I swallowed my glass in time for him to pour us both another and began my story. I told him about my camping trips with my father when I was young, why I joined the army, how I met my fiancé, how she eventually died and how I came to be in Outer Heaven. There were tears in my eyes, but I dare not cry in front of Big Boss. I just sat there and stared at my glass remembering her, and he spoke again…

"There have only been two women in my life, I mean really close to me," he said. "One was my mentor, the other was an enemy spy who seduced me to complete her mission. I killed my mentor on the battle field, the same time I got this." He pointed at his eye patch, "The other one disappeared and I never saw her again. I understand the pain you are going through. The feeling of betrayal. Wondering why it had to be her. But death happens, and sometimes it isn't easy to deal with and we have to carry on. Not because we want to, but because they would want us to." We sat and spoke some more over a couple of glasses. He asked me, very politely, to keep it down in consideration of my neighbors and when I left he told me that his door is always open. As I opened the door, I paused and turned to look at the legend and then I spoke. I don't know if what came out was because I was drunk or because I could relate to this man, this legend.

"Sir," I began. "I didn't join Outer Heaven because I believe in your cause. I joined because I wanted a place to die." I lowered my head in shame at the cowardly statement I had just expressed but he looked at me and nodded that he understood. It was if, for a moment, Big Boss, the legendary soldier, was human. The walk back to general population was a long one, made even longer that I took the long way around the compound. I had forgotten that I was a little drunk, remembering when I almost stumbled into one of the small gardens. I found my way back to my room and poured myself another drink. I took Big Boss's advice and kept it down as I cried myself to sleep. He had a point, there really was no reason I should burden the others with my pain. My sorrow.

The next day, I was on duty guarding and questioning the prisoner in the holding area. Interrogation was one of my strong points. The prisoner told us nothing except his name. Every question we asked he answered with his name. Gray Fox. After an hour or so I stepped outside to get a little air. It was a hot day. A very dry and unforgiving heat. I pulled out my flask and took a long swig of the Jack Daniel's that warmed itself in my pocket. I lit a cigarette from a pack I bought this morning. I hadn't smoked in several years. My fiancé hated it, but she was gone and I needed to take the edge off. I remembered what Big Boss had said the night before. How I should let go of my past and that Outer Heaven is dedicated to the future, a soldier's future. I paced back and forth next to some crates with my head down and my cigarette trembling in my fingers. I got a strange feeling and a tingle up the back of my neck.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw something. I turned, expecting to see a bird or a lion or something, but not what I saw. The man had a dark gray bandanna and short brown hair. He wore gray fatigues and held a silenced berretta that was pointed in my direction. I had expected Him to come for me in a black cloak and a scythe. It was Death. It had finally come for me. The mechanisms in the gun were all I heard. No loud gunshot, just a silent whisper of my life ending. Which brings me to where I am.

The shock is spreading through me. Taking a strong hold of my body. I look up at the sky and smile, praying to God that he allows me to see her. I miss her so badly. Her green eyes, her flowing hair, her sweet soft touch. I miss everything about her and now my life is over. Now is my chance. I manage a smile. No, not a smile, a smirk. My eyes are darkening. The bright afternoon sun is disappearing. Before I black out, I see her. I see her in her striking beauty and I thank God. Finally we can be together again. Finally I am at peace.


End file.
